


Where Angels Fear to Tread

by kikicecchetti



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Story Line, Angels, Castiel's Past, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Fallen Angels, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikicecchetti/pseuds/kikicecchetti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The seals are falling at an unprecedented pace. Raphael has made chaos in Heaven. After being reinstated into the Host, Anna is missing, and when someone from Castiel’s past returns to the middle of the fight, Castiel and the Winchesters are the only ones who can stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Despair

**Author's Note:**

> Betas: heatherklus and Pandaface0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night after saving a seal from falling, Castiel and the Winchesters receive an unexpected visitor with grave news.

Artificial light streamed in through the clumsily drawn curtains and illuminated a strip of the dusty, cheap motel room. As specks of dust swirled in the only ray of light, the room was still and silent. A man slept soundly in each bed. Limbs sprawled across the mattress, lost in their own separate dream worlds, the Winchester brothers slept off what had proved to be a much more difficult fight than they had anticipated.

  
Crossing the room in less than a blink of the eye, Castiel drew the curtains, shutting out the light from the outside world; isolating the Winchesters in the safety his grace allowed them.

  
Looking down upon Sam in the bed closest to the window, Castiel noticed how much younger the face of the larger Winchester looked when relaxed in sleep. With his eyes closed so innocently, his face not animated with his usual dour angst and exasperation, Castiel noted that only the most basic, primal pieces of his soul were active.

  
The taint was never as bad when Sam was asleep. Tugging gently at the centre of his grace, Castiel sent waves of tranquility and deep relaxation over Sam who fell into an even deeper slumber.

  
Castiel then appeared at the side of Dean’s bed. Dean never slept as soundly as Sam; his eyebrows remained furrowed in his sleep and his mouth was set in a steely line. Rather than quelling all of the inner turmoil, sleep opened parts of Dean’s mind that he was meticulous about keeping shut when awake.

  
Castiel had never understood the human obsession with the sensation of touch. In Heaven, touch was never needed, for the spiritual connection among the Host, though intangible to humans, was far more materiel than any electrical signal interpreted by the human brain as touch. But at that moment, Castiel wanted nothing more than to run his vessel’s fingers through Dean’s short, disheveled hair. To cup his cheek in his palm, savouring the human connection that touch allowed him.

  
Castiel felt a small pull on his grace as Dean began to stir restlessly in the bed. Though cloaked from human eyes, Castiel knew that Dean could sense his presence in the room. Even in his state of unconsciousness, Dean’s soul was always reaching for Castiel’s grace.

  
Having been mended and made whole by Castiel’s grace, Dean’s soul pulsed at the same frequency and glowed within him as a blindingly stunning gold light swirling and tumbling with effortless beauty. Castiel could stare at Dean’s soul for the rest of eternity and never tire of it. This soul was a gift to Castiel from his Father, entrusted to him for protection, guidance, and companionship.

  
Dean’s dreams were changing; the calm scene being overwhelmed by darkness, stench, and deafening screams. Castiel knew this place well, and he bristled with righteous anger as the face of Alistair took centre stage in Dean’s subconscious. Castiel allowed Dean’s reaching soul to touch his grace, and immediately Dean’s face relaxed and his mind calmed into a warm, contented nothingness. Once more, Castiel felt the urge rising in him to reach down and brush his fingers across Dean’s face. Uncloaking himself, Castiel allowed his vessel to materialise around him as he continued to watch Dean’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. Each cycle singing its own ethereal chorus to Castiel’s grace, he lost himself in the miracle of Dean. His human.

 

As so often happened when Castiel watched Dean sleep, he felt resistance at the waves of relaxation and comfort he sent to Dean. Soon, Dean was stirring in the bed and then suddenly his eyes opened. His vivid green irises shone in the darkness as they always did to Castiel but even more so at night when Dean was filled with Castiel’s grace keeping the nightmares at bay.

  
“Cas?” Dean’s hoarse voice whispered into the darkness. Still slightly disorientated after rousing from such a deep slumber, Dean’s mouth uttered Castiel’s name before he could even fully recognize the figure standing over his bed. Blinking a few times, he saw the trench-coat, tie and general Holy Tax Accountant look resolve itself on the angel standing by the bed.

  
“Yes, Dean.” Castiel responded in a normal voice as Sam was still fast asleep under the relaxation Castiel’s grace had afforded him. Sitting down slowly on the edge of Dean’s bed, he felt a hand reach out and wrap around his waist. As was usual, Castiel’s grace leapt as Dean’s touch and physical proximity created an unparalleled harmony between the human’s soul and Castiel’s own grace.

  
“Maria safe?” Dean asked as he gently pulled Castiel to lie next to him in the bed. Though his mind was still clouded by exhaustion of the battle to save the seal, he immediately thought of Maria who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had found herself possessed.

  
“I returned her to her home, and placed protective sigils around her.” Having obeyed Dean’s wordless demand, Castiel was laying on the bed with Dean’s arm wrapped possessively around him. “She is an innocent who knows nothing of this. They will not return for her.” Castiel said as he wrapped his wings protectively around Dean’s body.

  
Though Castiel’s wings were invisible, he felt Dean curl into his body and relax into the warmth Castiel’s wings encircled him in. With a deep sigh, Dean relaxed even further into their embrace. Castiel could see the fatigue in Dean’s eyes, but he knew that even if he attempted to lull him to sleep using his grace, Dean would fight it all the way.

  
Spreading his fingers wide, Dean buried his hand in Castiel’s soft, downy feathers. He couldn’t see his angel’s wings, not totally, but they pulsated with a pure, effervescent energy and Dean could sense them. He remarked that it was much like the negative of a photograph, he could see their presence but he couldn’t physically see them.

  
Dean loved Castiel’s reaction to having his wings touched almost as much as he enjoyed the feeling of his hand amongst those invisible feathers. A small, incomprehensible noise of pleasure and surprise escaped from Castiel’s lips and Dean plunged his hand even deeper into the delicate, balmy warmth of his wings, his fingers gently caressing each individual feather.

  
“How’s Sleeping Beauty?” Dean asked quietly, as Castiel’s hand moved to begin stroking his hair; Dean’s eyes moved to look over Castiel’s body at the bed next to him. Sam’s chest was rising and falling in a slow, strong rhythm.

  
“Sam is sleeping soundly.” Castiel affirmed. His voice warmed as he added, “He cannot fight my grace as you can.” Dean loved the way the angel’s face relaxed with affection as a small smile curled at the corners of his mouth.

  
Dean moved his free hand to the back of Castiel’s neck; shortening the distance between their faces, he planted a kiss on the angel’s lips. A shudder of pleasure running through the body next to him, Dean felt Castiel return the kiss with his characteristic urgency.

  
Just the feeling of Castiel’s lips on Dean’s caused a stirring in Dean’s groin. Obviously sensing Dean’s rising libido, Castiel’s hand suddenly made an appearance under the covers. Dean moaned deliciously into Castiel’s mouth as the angel’s hand wrapped around his growing erection.

  
Slightly unwilling, Dean moved his hand from Castiel’s wing to fight with the zipper on Cas’ trousers. Noticing that Dean was eager to remove his clothes, Castiel was immediately naked in the bed.

  
Dean felt it when suddenly his body was no longer pressed against Castiel’s clothes but was flush against his hot, smooth skin. Dean himself was wearing only boxer shorts, with Cas’ hand dipping below the waist-band. As Dean moved his lips to trace Castiel’s jawline, placing kisses every few inches, he made a pleasurable grumbling sound. “Hey, maybe I like undressing you.” He said, slightly miffed.

  
Castiel gripped Dean’s cock harder and increased the tempo of his strokes. “Shall I redress myself?” He asked in a teasing, breathy voice. Guttural moans emitted from Dean’s throat and his hips bucked against Castiel’s touch. With his free hand, Cas squeezed Dean’s ass before rubbing his hand all the way up his back and bringing it to rest on the back of Dean’s neck.

  
“Cas…” Dean whispered, his voice tight with arousal. Dean was still nibbling Castiel’s neck when the angel’s free hand found the handprint on his shoulder. Fitting his hand perfectly over the brand, Castiel felt a harder pull on his grace.

  
Dean didn’t quite understand how it happened, but it usually did anytime he and Cas were physical. As things escalated and Dean felt his pulse rising, the sweat beginning to pool in the crevices of his body, there was a connection. A tangible flow between Castiel’s grace in Jimmy’s vessel and the pieces interwoven into Dean’s once-fractured soul.

  
Castiel’s breath hitched and Dean felt the angel’s stiff cock press hard against his thigh. The flow ebbed for a moment as Dean began to lift his head from where he’d been resting it on Cas’ shoulder. Dean opened his eyes as a surge of blinding, golden light burst forth from Castiel’s core.

  
Even though this was not the first time this had happened, Dean gasped and his mouth remained open as he was driven almost to insanity by Castiel’s everything. For from that bursting, brilliant light rose two wings, thick with feathers and burning with the splendor of a thousand suns. Dean willed himself not to blink and was successful until he finally fell over the falls, coming in Cas’ hand.

  
Dean watched Castiel’s wings begin to flicker as his body still pulsated with the aftermath of his orgasm. His hands reached greedily to rest within the feathers as Castiel made small moaning noises into the side of Dean’s neck. “Dean…” Cas whispered his human’s name, and Dean felt the exhale of steaming breath against his skin.

  
Dean placed another kiss on Castiel’s swollen lips and wrapped his arms around the angel’s body. He felt Castiel’s wings encircle his body once more even though they had returned to their near invisible state.

  
It was always warm in Cas’ wings, and Dean was so content that he hardly fought the sleep which Castiel was raining over him. As he laid next to Castiel, his head still slightly scrambled from orgasm, it almost didn’t register when he heard the sound of wings in their motel room.  
And Cas was gone.

  
Sighing with frustration that was tempered by his post-orgasm exhaustion, Dean turned to lay on his stomach, and was immediately fast asleep. Cas would be back.

*********

Castiel had felt the presence in the room immediately, and it took him less than a second to surmise that this was not Anna. However, he did not react with violence. Castiel knew that if their angelic interloper had come to kill or wound, things would have already taken a turn for the worst, so as he begrudgingly left Dean alone in the bed, he tugged on the other angel in the room and they found themselves standing in a large open field. Castiel’s face was perplexed as he surveyed his surroundings. This was not where he had intended they go.

  
Turning, Castiel was finally able to look upon the presence that had brought him to flight. The angel was currently occupying the body of a tall, waifish woman in her late twenties with long copper hair. When Castiel looked in her vessel at the grace within, he was taken aback.

  
“Seraphiel?” He whispered to the angel, not believing that he was truly laying eyes on her.

  
Dropping her head into a nod, she did not answer immediately. “I am sorry for coming unannounced, Castiel.” She said quietly, meeting his eyes with hesitation. Castiel took that moment to survey her appearance; he had never seen her in a vessel before, and as he looked past the flesh at the grace within her, his own grace twisted with pain and sorrow.

  
“You’ve just come from battle,” Castiel stated as he approached Seraphiel. Her wings were injured, liquid grace flowing out of the lacerations. Castiel did not know what garrison Seraphiel was fighting with, but he feared what her presence indicated. And in his fear, he was unable to form the question he desired to ask.

  
“I have not been with my garrison for some time now,” Seraphiel began, breaking her eye contact with Castiel in shame and surveying the familiar field she had directed Castiel and herself to. “After the fight in Perdition, I was not returned to Remiel’s garrison. I was told by Zachariah that Micah had important work, and I was re-assigned to him.” Seraphiel’s face was expressionless, but Castiel thought he could sense a burdening sadness in her eyes.

  
In Castiel’s mind, he pictured the fight in Perdition, Seraphiel dispatching demon after demon as the angelic army fought its way through the horde, towards Alistair’s lair, towards Dean. “And what of Micah’s garrison now?” Castiel asked.

  
Seraphiel’s face once again contorted with pain; it was then that Castiel was fully aware that Seraphiel had not been one with the Host in quite some time. He approached her and extended his hand towards her wing. “May I?” He asked politely.

  
Nodding almost imperceptibly, Seraphiel took a step towards Castiel to accept the healing he offered. The feeling was beyond description when Castiel’s grace rushed into her, healing the wounds she was carrying. It was like a breath of fresh air after the last time she was one on one with another’s grace.

  
Castiel watched Seraphiel close her eyes as her wings became whole once more. He certainly wasn’t a healer, but her wounds were not grave. They had simply become exacerbated by her obvious isolation from the Host. “Thank you.” She said with more strength. “My ability to heal myself has been greatly impacted by my leave from the garrison.”

  
Now that Seraphiel was whole and seemingly out of any immediate danger, Castiel began to walk through the field, and Seraphiel followed suit. “I should have known that something was wrong,” She began, looking down at the ground as she walked beside Castiel. “From the moment we returned from the fight in Hell, Micah stationed most of the members of his garrison on earth. I thought we would have returned to the Outer Realm to continue the war but each of us was given a seal to guard and free range to take a vessel.”

  
Castiel surveyed the field, remembering the last time he had walked on this spot just after the battle that Seraphiel was reminding him of. This was the field where Dean’s body had been buried.

  
Knowing where his mind had gone, Seraphiel wondered if this were the best place to bring Castiel for this discussion, but it was too late now. She continued. “I obeyed, and guarded my seal without rest until I received a call from Uriel’s garrison to defend another seal. As I prepared to take my leave, Micah came to me and forbade me from joining the fight,” Seraphiel paused and looked Castiel in the eye. “Micah told me that the seal was already falling, and it would be unwise for me to abandon my post.

  
“I thought that the seals were the top priority of Heaven, but I obeyed my commander.” Seraphiel felt anger boiling up inside and she admonished herself for feeling so…human. “It wasn’t until more seals began to fall that I noticed the pattern: the falling seals had all been found and guarded by members of my garrison.” She turned her eyes to Castiel whose face was grave. “And mine was next. I was attacked with qeres by members of my garrison to incapacitate me before the attack, and I was left with no choice but to depart after alerting Uriel’s garrison. Anna has helped me avoid detection over the past few months, but her re-instatement into the Host has made it difficult for us to communicate. I have not had any contact with her in over three weeks.” Castiel was nodding with a look of grave concern.

  
“How did you find us?” He asked simply. Feeling rather downtrodden with the news Seraphiel relayed to him, he added, “Why did you come?”

  
Sighing loudly, Seraphiel shook her head. “I was attacked by my own brothers,” She stated resolutely, and Castiel could see the confused hurt and betrayal sitting squarely in her eyes. “My brothers who fought along side me turned their violence against me. I couldn’t imagine the pain of falling being any worse.” Seraphiel stopped walking and turned to face Castiel. “You know, Castiel,” She said with emotion cracking her voice. Her disconnect from the Host was causing her vessel’s emotions to bubble to the surface and overflow into her speech and action. “You know of the rebellion and the pain of our brothers’ betrayal. I came here because there is no where else to go, no one else able to be trusted.” In a moment of surprising humanity, Seraphiel reached out her hand and placed it firmly on Castiel’s shoulder where his wing brushed gently over it. “Because Dean Winchester is our only hope.”

  
As a lazy breeze blew stray pieces of Seraphiel’s hair into her face, Castiel knew he should be on his guard, as she said, no one was able to be trusted. But the edge to her voice combined with the pure agony he felt throbbing in her depleted grace softened his expression. Placing his hand over Seraphiel’s on his shoulder, Castiel nodded. “Let us return,” He stated. “There are protections around the Winchester’s motel room. We will be safe there.”  
Without thinking, Castiel tightly gripped Seraphiel’s hand and together they disappeared, leaving the field empty.

**************

Dean was unsure how long Castiel had been gone because he hadn’t awoken even once during his absence. His dreams were gilded and quiet, and he slept as soundly as if Cas had been next to him the whole time. As he shifted position in bed he heard the rustle of feathers and Cas appeared at the foot of his bed, but he wasn’t alone.

  
Sitting straight up in bed, Dean pointed over Cas’ shoulder. “Behind you!” He warned in a loud voice, startling Sam out of his slumber with a grunt. Castiel did not react to Dean’s warning.

  
The woman standing behind Castiel looked down and began to slowly slide her angel blade out of the sleeve of her non-descript black suede jacket. Dean bristled as he caught sight of the silver blade, but his face slackened as he watched her kneel and place it on the floor, pushing it away with her foot.

  
“I mean you no harm, Dean Winchester,” she said in a calm, even voice, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. Shooting Castiel a dubious, questioning look, Dean nodded and looked the woman over as he noticed Sam doing the same thing in his peripheral vision. She was no more than an inch shorter than Cas with small, angular features and hair the colour of a newly minted penny. She stood with a straight back, her shoulders relaxed to accentuate her mile-long neck.

  
“And who are you, sweetheart?” Dean asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

  
“This is Seraphiel,” Cas answered. “Many years ago we fought in the same garrison, and she was a member of the army which rescued you from the Pit.” Dean tried to hide the vast array of emotions which flowed through his body upon hearing that. He broke eye contact with this Seraphiel and looked at Cas. “An entire garrison of my brothers has rebelled. They are seeking out seals and facilitating their fall under Raphael’s orders. Seraphiel’s unwillingness to aid in the rebellion has forced her to distance herself from the Host.”

  
Dean and Sam sat up straighter in their beds, and Dean shook his head as he shrugged. “So?” He asked in a rough voice. “We know Raphael is recruiting. What are we supposed to do about it?” Realising that his tone was a bit more jaded and biting than he’d intended, Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and planted his bare feet on the worn carpet with a deep sigh.

  
“All I need is your help finding Anna,” Seraphiel said, her eyes making Dean shift uncomfortably on the bed. “But I might have information that interests you in return.” Both Sam and Dean perked up at the chance that Seraphiel might have useful information.

  
Raising his eyebrows inquisitively but with a measured expression in his eyes, Dean stood and sauntered to the other side of the room and grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge. “Well, Cas probably told you that we haven’t heard from Anna in weeks.” Dean took a long pull off the beer and stared at the two angels in silence.

  
“So that’s why the seals are falling at a faster pace,” Sam’s voice was still a bit husky from sleep, but Dean could see the gears turning in his head. “There is an entire garrison of angels devoted to finding and breaking the seals?” Sam said as a mixture of question and statement. “And The Burning Church? That was the garrison?” The battle of the day before was still fresh in Sam’s mind. Something had impaired the power he gained from the daemon blood, now it made perfect sense.

  
Seraphiel’s face was grave and she nodded stiffly. “Yes,” Her voice was tight and wiped clean of emotion. “I have been following them since I left and alerting others of their action. The tip which led you to the church was initially from me. If you had not answered, I would not have found you.”

  
Sam considered that for a moment in silence and then reached over and pulled his shirt over his head. “You know the order they’re going in?” He asked, rising to walk towards where Seraphiel stood next to Cas. “So why weren’t you there?” Sam’s voice had an edge to it that Seraphiel recognized as hopelessness, she could see it multiplying in the demon tainted soul that Sam carried, and yet despite all she had heard about Sam Winchester from her brothers, she had no choice but to trust him.

  
“I was there,” Seraphiel shot a glimpse at Castiel who had healed her wounds from the battle. “I could not risk detection by going into the middle of the fight, but I aided you from the side.”

  
Dean had been unnaturally silent, and Castiel looked over at him with his beer in his hand and a vaguely vacuous expression on his face. “Seraphiel has been isolated from the Host since Dean’s return from Hell, even small injuries can have grave consequences when her grace is pulled so thin,” Cas explained while still looking at Dean. Turning to face Sam he added, “And she is the only one who can tell us where the next strike might come with enough forewarning to stop it.”

  
“I bring this to you, Dean, because you are the only person in all of creation that can stop this.” Seraphiel’s eyes were piercing and Dean shifted his beer to his other hand with a shrug. He took a drink attempting to dispel some of the intensity in the room.

  
Silence descended once more punctuated only by the creaking of Sam’s mattress as he shifted position. Castiel noticed how Sam’s gaze lingered on Seraphiel who took it upon herself to speak. “The next seal is the River of Blood and it falls in two days in Osceola, Arkansas.” Sam saw Castiel visibly stiffen. “It is a prime seal, so there may be angels present, but typically it is left to the demons to perform the deed. If I am to be of any assistance then I need Anna’s help with restoring my grace.” Seraphiel moved towards Dean who was still standing next to the mini-fridge. He stepped back instinctively as she extended her hand and placed it on his right shoulder, just over the brand that Castiel left there. “I would be honoured to fight by your side, Dean Winchester.”

  
Seraphiel was unsure as to why she’d felt such a strong urge to touch Dean, but from the moment she made contact with him, she saw a small explosion of gold and felt a faint outpouring of Castiel’s grace. Not wanting to remove her hand, she closed her eyes for a moment and savoured the fluid movements of Castiel’s grace in Dean’s soul.

  
 _You have made him whole with your grace, Castiel. His entire being is held together only by you. Have no doubt that you are completing what is required of you and take comfort in the fact that you are fulfilling our Father’s will._

  
“Uh…” Dean cleared his throat as the angel standing in front of him made no indication that she was moving. Seraphiel opened her eyes and Dean smiled nervously as she removed her hand from his shoulder.

  
Sam felt that something had just passed wordlessly between the two angels, and he hoped that it wasn’t anything to do with the battle that they were to face. “So what is this River of Blood thing?” Dean asked.

  
“It requires the blood of six children born under the solstice eclipse,” Castiel provided. Sam felt a stirring at the back of his mind. He had been researching seals and he seemed to remember this one. “There is a ritual that must be performed by Lilith herself at midnight precisely. Once the ritual has begun it will be virtually impossible to stop the power it invokes. Our only hope will be to save the children before midnight.”

  
Dean tossed his empty beer bottle into the bin next to the fridge and clapped his hands together in mock excitement. “Well,” He began, picking up the duffle bag on the floor by the table. “What are we waiting for?” He asked the room as he started packing the guns which were neatly laid out on the table.

  
“Seraphiel and I will go ahead and see what awaits us.” Castiel said. Seraphiel watched as a look of displeasure flashed momentarily across Dean’s face. Sobering, he nodded. “We will return to you tomorrow, but you must leave now.” Castiel’s eyes lingered on Dean’s face, and they were gone.

  
Once the Winchesters were alone, Sam stood and walked to the table where Dean continued to pack up their weapons. “You okay?” Sam asked in his concerned tone, his forehead crinkled with unease.

  
Despite himself, Dean sighed deeply. “It’s one thing when you’re fighting evil, you know?” He said gruffly as he put the last gun into the duffle and swiftly zipped it closed. “Fighting daemons and monsters is what we know. Hell, it’s been our whole lives.” Dean stared at the closed duffle bag in front of him. “But now we’re up against angels too? If the servants of ‘God’,” Dean made quotation marks with his fingers. “don’t even believe that it’s possible to stop the Apocalypse or else think that it’s an improvement over the current state of things, then I sometimes wonder just what the fucking point is.” Hoisting the duffle bag onto his shoulder, Dean pursed his lips with a shrug. “But what else am I supposed to do?” He asked redundantly.

  
Usually full of helpful remarks, Sam said nothing. Dean moved towards the door and Sam rose to begin packing his things. Dean was halfway out the door when he stopped and turned. “Oh, and dude?” He said. Sam raised his eyebrows in response. “Try to stop staring at Seraphiel’s ass, okay?”  
Sam opened his mouth to respond with a witty retort but Dean had already shut the door. Rolling his eyes with a small laugh, he sent a pleading prayer to Heaven.

  
 _We need you, Anna._


	2. Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seraphiel becomes more entrenched in the lives of Castiel and the Winchesters as they attempt to stop the fall of another seal. However the seals might not be the only thing that's falling.

Dean never thought that Zeppelin could get on his nerves. Usually all it took was a few seconds of Jimmy Page’s electrifying blues-y stylings to help Dean push out of his head whatever thoughts he didn’t really want to face. And yet the look on Dean’s face was a mixture of exhaustion, foreboding and impatience as Robert Plant crooned about that fucking lady who’s building a stairway...blah blah blah.

The road was empty as Dean drove the Impala through the silent darkness, his headlights illuminating just enough of the asphalt before him, the world beyond a thick black nothingness. To the right of the roadway ahead stood a large green sign indicating the Colorado-Kansas state border. A pang of bittersweet nostalgia twisted Dean’s stomach because, no matter what, whenever the Impala’s wheels crossed the Kansas state border, he always felt like he was coming home.

He fucking hated it.

There was nothing on this road, not even road lights. If it weren’t for the roar of the Impala’s engine this would be no man’s land, and Dean felt as alone as he ever had. He couldn’t blink without his exhausted brain dragging back memories of ripping souls.

Sam was sleeping in the passenger’s seat. He had the books he’d been consulting still spread haphazardly across his lap, and his head bobbed onto his right shoulder whenever they hit a bump. Dean’s eyes felt heavy, and then he remembered why he’d not gotten much shut-eye and he thought it seemed like a welcome sacrifice.

**********

Sam’s dreams were scattered. None of them following any succession until he stumbled upon a door that opened into a picturesque meadow. At the centre of the meadow was a small spring-fed pond with crystal clear water bubbling lazily at the surface. A blanket was spread on the dewy grass bank, and sitting on it was a woman in a swimsuit, her back arched with the sun glinting off of her skin in an other-worldly way. He’d never seen this place before, and it seemed far too beautiful to be true.

The woman shifted where she sat, her soft copper hair falling from her shoulder to brush against her bare back. Sam knew that hair, but this didn’t make sense.

“Seraphiel?”

The woman sitting in front of him began to turn her head in response to Sam’s voice but she stayed silent. When Sam caught sight of her profile, he knew this was indeed Seraphiel, and he felt his guilt at her current state of undress. Just as he thought about her clothes, she was suddenly wearing a simple yellow sundress, her bikini straps still tied around her neck.

“This is a dream,” Sam said obviously; he sat down next to her on the ground and she finally made eye contact with him. Sam was mesmerized by her deep green eyes.

“This is a dream,” She repeated and Sam felt himself sag in relief. He knew angels could appear in his dreams, but it happened to be the last thing he needed at the moment. But that still didn’t answer the question of what she was doing there.

“So why are you here?” Sam asked, feeling braver in his own head.

The corner of Seraphiel’s mouth twitched into a half smile. “I’m here because you want me to be.”

Sam’s expression was one of confusion and then he understood. “You’re not really here.” He said, relaxing even further into his dream as he realized that this was merely his dream’s projection of Seraphiel, not the angel herself. As he watched her nod with that unreadable smile on her face he felt himself moving closer to where she sat.

“Can we just sit here?” He asked timidly.

Seraphiel looked at Sam with an unreadable expression on her face, and Sam felt what he could only think was Seraphiel’s wing brush against his shoulder and wrapping around his body in a safe haven of warmth and comfort. He had no idea how he imagined that would happen.

“This is your time,” Seraphiel said serenely. “You simply want me to be here.”

*******  
Dean shook Sam awake as they pulled into the gas station for a fill-up and the largest black coffee Dean could find. “Rise and shine, Rip Van Winkle.” Dean all but shouted in Sam’s ear. Starting awake, Sam’s face was confused, but certainly had a pleasant hint to it. “Did I interrupt something?” Dean asked provocatively. “I’m getting a coffee, you want anything?”

Sam’s brain was still scrambled from the perfect peace he’d experienced in his dream. “Umm…yeah, coffee, black.” He mumbled.

Dean nodded. “Pump the gas, will you,” He added with a smirk.

Sam pressed his fingers into his closed eyelids until he saw stars. He didn’t know what he was supposed to think about that dream. Seraphiel was an angel. I mean, God, did he know that while they were in vessels they could certainly engage in sexual acts. He’d given Castiel permission to use his grace to put Sam to sleep if he and Dean wanted privacy in the motels. Sam was not used to seeing Dean so…happy.

It was definitely a different happiness than most people would imagine. After all that Dean had experienced in the past year, happiness meant that he went a few nights without waking up in a cold sweat to a nightmare of proportions Sam couldn’t even imagine. But those moments when he looked in Castiel’s eyes and Sam could see everything melt away; those moments gave him hope.

Sam glanced at his watch as he put the nozzle into the Impala’s tank. It was four AM. Dean drummed his fingers on the roof of the his baby, “You awake?” He asked.

Sam shrugged and replaced the nozzle in the pump. “Weird dreams.” Dean handed Sam his coffee over the roof and walked around the front opened the driver’s door. Sam entered the passenger’s side in silence and Dean cranked the engine wordlessly. Gunning the engine, he sped off from the gas station going east, into the soon-rising sun, leaving the darkness behind him. What a crock of shit.

*******

The two angels arrived at the center of Osceola, Arkansas. The Town Hall stood to their backs. They were, of course, cloaked from human eyes, but it was more than evident that there was a mounting demon presence in the quaint, blue-collar town.

“Do you know where they are keeping the children?” Castiel inquired. Looking at Seraphiel.

“A factory. I don’t know the exact location.” Seraphiel extended her grace, wincing in pain, to sense the exact nature of the threat. “They have Enochian sigils around every factory along the river, and I have the distinct feeling that Lilith is already here.” Seraphiel began walking down the side-walk.

Castiel followed and sensed the darkness that engulfed the town. He understood that there was indeed a formidable evil present. They walked in silence, and Castiel followed a few paces behind Seraphiel’s lead.

Seraphiel’s wings pulsed tiredly. He noticed that they were tucked close to her back; he watched them flicker. Did they become materiel for a moment? Castiel’s grace seized as he knew what that could entail.

“Anna knows how to replenish your grace?” Castiel asked, concernedly.

Seraphiel was struck by a wave of anxiety; she was becoming more and more accustomed to the overwhelming sensation of human emotion which she had been experiencing in her isolation. But it still felt alien, and yet so utterly real. She finally understood why her Father had given his beloved human’s their free will: so they could fully experience the wide array of emotions available to them.

“Yes. Anna knows of the locations closest to the Veil, if we’re close enough the clash created by the meeting of the two realms, I can connect my grace to it and draw off its unbridled fury. It is a different feeling than being replenished by the Host, not as strong, but it works.” Seraphiel noticed Castiel kept glancing at her wings which she saw flickering in and out of existence every now and again. “Such desperation is not without its consequences.” Seraphiel said in response to his gaze.

Castiel averted his eyes to the pavement in slight embarrassment and then began glancing at the buildings they passed, extending his grace to assess the exact nature of what lay inside each building.

Knowing what Castiel was struggling to say, Seraphiel unfurled her wing with a grimace and placed it lightly on Castiel’s shoulder. He noticed the distinctly different feeling of Seraphiel’s wing, and he knew things had already been put into motion that could not be stopped.

Castiel knew he had to address it, but after all of those years fighting alongside the angel walking next to him, it was much more difficult to articulate it. “Have you known all along?” Castiel asked, as they passed the supermarket which Castiel knew contained more than ten demons.

Seraphiel understood his question. It was something she had been keeping out of her thoughts. She had far too much to attend to without worrying about the inevitable. “I’ve had my fears from the beginning, and as the days stretched to weeks and I understood that my place in the Host was all but gone, I think I have accepted the fact that even with Anna’s continued help, I will fall for my disobedience.” Seraphiel’s face was expressionless, but Castiel could see the herculean effort required to maintain it.

Castiel understood her fear. Falling was perhaps the single most devastating experience an angel could endure. Death, one of humankind’s greatest fears, was never something to be feared by an angel. Once an angel’s grace was destroyed, the angel ceased to exist. Their grace exploded out of their vessel and the pieces of consciousness tumbled through space and time until they fell out of the edge of existence.

But falling, there was no end to that pain until the soulless vessel being occupied finally succumbed to old age and death. The fallen angel would feel the hollow emptiness of the vessel without his grace in every second of every hour of every day, and often the loneliness of walking the earth as a ‘human’ with all the angel’s memories could drive one to madness.

Thankfully, Seraphiel felt something as she extended her grace even further to search the buildings on the road leading to the river. “It is somewhere here. I can feel it.” She said to Castiel, who was still having a difficult time focusing on anything other than the fact that he was going to lose Seraphiel. Soon.

 _Let us go to the demons’ headquarters. I can sense their mounting presence._ Castiel spoke wordlessly to Seraphiel’s grace, concerned by the influx of darkness he felt in the town. She nodded in response, taking Castiel’s hand to follow where he led.

********

It was past three in the morning when Seraphiel and Castiel appeared in front of the demons’ head quarters, and Seraphiel heard her name in a whisper on the wind. She looked at Castiel whose face confirmed that he had heard the noise too.

You should depart. I will look into this. Castiel extended his grace to connect with Seraphiel’s. The tendrils of Castiel’s grace gently caressed her own throbbing, weakened self. She reluctantly released Castiel’s hand, as she felt something clawing at her grace.

_I will return to the Winchesters._

Seraphiel took flight and found herself standing the middle of a dark forest. Looming pine trees glinting with morning’s dew stood sentinel in this magnificent silent place. She needed to understand the threat to her grace before she returned to the Winchesters.

_Is this falling?_

The scratching at her grace persisted, she closed her eyes and suddenly her vessel was sitting in a small meadow, with a spring-fed pond in front of her. And she wasn’t alone. Next to that body that Seraphiel had come to think of as her own was Sam Winchester.

“This is a dream.” She heard her voice repeat after Sam said the same thing.

As she probed the disconnect between her grace and her vessel, she understood that Sam was dreaming of her, and her grace was being drawn to his projection of her vessel. The force was coming from him; it was like a vacuum coming from his tainted soul, it pulled on Seraphiel’s grace, but she was not afraid. It felt so desperate.

Seraphiel watched as Sam’s gaze surveyed her body and stared unabashedly into her eyes. She could see the chasm of his soul. It was so empty. She could see the small part which survived with Dean. It was scarred and bruised, still in the process of returning to its original size after Dean’s ‘death’, but it glowed like burning embers of the purest white gold.

Sam wanted to simply sit by the pond in this idyllic place, and his mind wanted, impossibly, for Seraphiel to be there. Feeling like an trespasser in her own vessel, she didn’t allow her grace to fully occupy it, shifting and re-adjusting herself so she didn’t settle.

Before she left, Seraphiel extended her grace and gave Sam the experience of feeling her wings around his body, and she felt his mind relax. Hoping that would give Sam the comfort he needed, she left him to his dream.

Returning to the forest, she checked her watch and saw it was getting on four. She took the phone that Castiel had given her, and called the first number.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was rough with concern.

“This is Seraphiel. I was forced to leave Osceola, Castiel and I are meeting back up with you two. Could I have your current location?” Seraphiel felt anxious at the prospect of sharing a car with Sam Winchester. She wasn’t sure if he had sensed the presence of her grace within his dream’s version of Seraphiel.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Uh….Kansas, highway 40, mile marker 45.”

With the flap of wings, Seraphiel appeared in the backseat of the Impala. Sam stiffened in the passenger seat at the sound. “Hello,” Seraphiel’s voice came from the behind him.

“Where’s Cas?” Dean grilled Seraphiel, she felt his soul ache as he considered that Castiel might be in danger. She also sensed the slight rancor he harboured against her for leaving Castiel.

“Don’t worry, Dean. I left because I felt a pull on my grace, and I feared that my brothers might have sensed my presence. But upon leaving, I understood that I was simply feeling after-effects of my isolation.” Seraphiel found it very easy to lie her way out of that. She wondered if Sam understood that his demon blood enhanced psychic ability had literally pulled Seraphiel’s grace to himself in sleep.

Nodding, Dean reached down and flicked the radio on again, he didn’t really want to talk to this strange woman from Cas’ past. Especially since he couldn’t deny that the vessel she was currently occupying was very attractive. Dean glanced in his rear view mirror and saw Seraphiel scanning the landscape illuminated by the sun’s first light.

The music on the radio had improved, and maybe it was because Dean had finished his coffee and the darkness of the night was once more at bay, but as Dean drove down the highway into the red fire of the rising sun, he felt a stirring of a feeling that he thought might be hope. He just wanted Cas to come back already.

********

Seraphiel received a message from Castiel after ten minutes of riding to the classic rock radio station.

_I am continuing to assess the situation. I am not convinced the children have arrived. I will look for the location of the ritual. I will reach to you when I have finished._

“Castiel is continuing the assessment of Osceola,” She said over the music.

Turning it down, Dean looked in the rear view mirror, “What?”

“I heard Castiel’s grace. He is continuing to investigate the situation in Osceola.” Seraphiel turned her head from Dean and looked out the window once more at her Father’s beautiful creation. The rays of the early morning sun glinted captivatingly off each dew-drop on the grass in the fields passing at a rapid pace.

Unable to appreciate the beauty in every distinct detail of creation, Sam found his eyes drooping after an hour of Dean’s music. Almost unwillingly, he fell into another sleep.

When Sam opened his eyes into his dream, he was laying on his back staring at a brilliant, pale blue sky. His view was framed by the tops of dark evergreen trees. Sitting up, he recognized the location. He had returned to his dream from the night before. Seraphiel’s dream.

Sam turned to look towards the pond. His heart leapt when he saw Seraphiel sitting in the same place as the last time, wearing the same black string bikini. He really needed to work on that.

“Seraphiel?” He called her name with more certainty as he was sure this was a dream.

Several things happened at once. Seraphiel began to turn her head at the sound of Sam’s voice, but he didn’t get to see any more than her profile because all of a sudden, the Seraphiel on the blanket in her swimsuit disappeared and was replaced with that distinct sound of wings by a more believable Seraphiel in her dark wash skinny jeans and black suede jacket over a simple white tank top.

“Yes, Sam?” She said in that voice that Sam was used to hearing out of Castiel’s mouth, but hers had a slightly higher pitch which lent it a ringing soprano. Her eyes, the colour of a forest following an afternoon of rain, stared unflinchingly into Sam’s. He broke her gaze as he realized that she had answered to his call.

“You called me,” Seraphiel provided at his silence. “And since you are currently in a dream, I am able to appear even when you have the Enochian sigils on your ribs.” Seraphiel noticed Sam was avoiding her eyes. “Is everything alright?”

Sam laughed nervously and made brief eye contact; he was shocked at the similarity he noticed between the shade of Seraphiel’s and Dean’s eyes, it made him slightly uncomfortable. Not to mention she was the last person—angel—he should be having any of these thoughts about. First of all, she was an angel, and Sam was definitely on Heaven’s shit-list.

Blushing despite himself, Sam bit his lip. “I think this was just supposed to be a dream.” His tone was like that of a little boy who had just been caught misbehaving by his mother.

Seraphiel watched as a symphony of emotions played through Sam’s soul. Much to her surprise, the dominating one was shame. From what she had heard of Sam Winchester from her brothers, he was a cool, calculating sociopath with an insatiable thirst for power. But the lonely, scared little boy who stood before her, simply doing what he felt he had to, was nothing of the sort.

“I felt it when you dreamed of me here before.” Seraphiel said in a quiet voice, and Sam definitely saw more human emotion dance in her eyes. Seraphiel felt a smile tugging at her mouth, it was bubbling up from her grace and manifesting itself on her vessel’s face. Sam smiled widely in return. “I know you didn’t call me on purpose, Sam. You fascinate me. From all I’ve heard from my brothers, I expected so much darkness and evil in you. But from everything I’ve experienced of you, I cannot help but see how wrong they are.”

Sam twisted his face in confusion. That was certainly not what he expected her to say. “What do you mean?” Sam asked, his voice decidedly less strong than he’d imagined.

Seraphiel tugged at the corners of her vessel’s mouth to try to calm Sam. She hated being in this state of depleted grace or she would have sent him the calm and reassurance that he needed. She turned from him and walked towards the blanket on the bank of the pond. The pristine grass beneath the flannel was springy as Seraphiel sat and her grace reached to lovingly stroke each individual blade.

“My brothers,” Seraphiel began as Sam took his seat next to her; she continued staring at the spring’s water bubbling to the surface at the centre of the pond. “They see you in this certain way. Perhaps it is the curse of our kind, but they do not judge one’s intentions, merely their actions,” She felt Sam stiffen at her words, and she unconsciously unfurled her wings to wrap one around his shoulder. It was completely unexpected, and yet when that living incarnation of her grace made contact with Sam’s arm, though she could certainly feel the grace-chilling danger of the taint, but she could sense beyond a shadow of a doubt that beneath all of it, Sam could still be saved.

Sam understood. It was all he could think when he experienced the feeling of Seraphiel’s wing against his bare skin. It was the most materiel touch he could have imagined, and yet he saw nothing; not a single one of the feathers he felt caressing his skin, radiating a pulsing warmth of indescribable tenderness. Making Sam truly believe that there might be a way out of this.

“Maybe I have been disconnected from them for too long,” Seraphiel continued. “But I see the short-sightedness of it now. You have made decisions that have angered Heaven, and altered events, but you never did it superfluously. Your selfless desperation is the most honest depiction of the human condition I have ever seen. Just as this same desperation drives your brother down his path, so does it steer you down yours.” Seraphiel stepped forward and brushed a lock of Sam’s hair behind his ear, requiring her to stand on her tiptoes.

Sam closed his eyes as Seraphiel’s finger brushed against his face, and he simply basked in her words. It was a comfort beyond description, to hear someone, much less an angel, say those words to Sam. His strength from the demon blood was fading, and he knew that Dean wanted this to be the last time, and he was going to need someone to hold onto as he tried to stop this.

“The strength is within you, Sam. The demon blood enhances it, but that is not the only way.” Seraphiel provided, and Sam was surprised when he raised his hand placed it gently on Seraphiel’s cheek.

“Thank you.” Sam said, with the slightest crack in his voice.

Seraphiel wrapped her wings around Sam as he pulled her into a desperate embrace. She heard a small murmur of a prayer come from his mind.

_Please, Anna. Come back._


	3. Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension mounts as two angels and two hunters continue their trek to Osceola, AR with more questions than answers. With Seraphiel's failing grace, Anna's absence and Sam's burning need for Ruby's blood, the task of stopping the seal from falling seems even more unfeasible.

As Castiel examined the building where the demons seemed to be congregating, he began to fully comprehend the predicament he was in. Looking into the building, he could not perceive with his grace what the abominations were doing. Instead, as he extended burning tendrils of his grace to penetrate the wall seared with Enochian sigils intertwined with the mix of his brothers' graces, his own grace slammed against the sigils more violently than ever before. The sigils had been painted by angels.

The memory of Seraphiel’s wounded grace and how it throbbed with pulses of utter loneliness began to make sense. It was indeed Micah’s entire garrison who had rebelled, every single angel except Seraphiel. Castiel’s core immediately ached as he felt himself sever the connections to an entire garrison of his brothers.

_He had to keep the Winchesters safe._

Castiel’s grace crashed like white-capped waves against a cliff-face, could he trust anyone in Heaven now? The power harnessed by Micah’s garrison in guarding this location was colossal, and he understood that they were prepared to kill their brothers without question to ensure the collapse of this seal. He felt Anna’s abandonment even more acutely as he faced this alone, a brewing angelic war in which he was fighting on what could only be the losing side.

Something twitched in his grace and he recognized the familiar feeling of that tiny portion of Dean’s soul that he still possessed, and his faith in Dean stirred and swelled. The Righteous Man was the only one who could stop all of this, and Castiel’s own grace was woven into his soul. The glue keeping it from falling apart.

They must have a chance. Castiel still believed he was fulfilling his Father’s will. He recalled Seraphiel’s words of assurance to him. They’d fought as partners in so many battles, and he’d seen some of the most profound parts of her grace. Locked in a fight against demons, he recalled her burning form of the purest, blinding white light.

It was in such drastic juxtaposition with the grace he encountered in that motel room when she’d appeared. She was depleted to an extent that caused even Castiel pain. He knew that she would never stop to think of herself, but if Anna did not appear before the next night, Seraphiel would certainly not survive the fight.

Focusing on his piece of Dean’s soul, he took flight and found himself sitting next to Seraphiel in the back-seat of the Impala.

**********

Dean had been scouting the roads for gas-stations as they cruised through the clear Kansas morning. It was getting on ten am, and Cas had been gone for 6 hours. It took Dean all the strength inside him to keep a cool, collected look on his face. Seraphiel did not seem worried. But she was disconnected, and Dean didn’t quite trust that she could know that Cas was safe.

Just as Dean lost it and opened his mouth to demand Cas to get his angel-ass back here, he heard the sound of wings behind him. Glancing quickly over his shoulder, he saw Cas sitting straight backed next to Seraphiel who turned her gaze from the window.

“Where the hell have you been?” Dean asked, trying to disguise his raging anxiety.

Castiel cocked his head to the side and surveyed Dean’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. “You were worried. Did you not receive my message?” He looked at Seraphiel with his grace twisting in discomfort.

_Had it already started?_

Seraphiel extended her hand and touched Castiel’s arm. “We received the message. Dean was simply worried.” Castiel’s grace relaxed a fraction, like a sea calming after a storm. Seraphiel’s touch comforted Castiel in such a human way when he still felt a burning in her grace.

“I just thought you might have gotten your angel-ass in trouble,” Dean said, trying to be gruff. But the relief permeated his tone, and he knew Cas understood.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam said from the passenger seat as he turned down the music. “If I had to listen to that AC/DC tape one more time, I think I would shoot myself,” He finished with a laugh.

“Are you having suicidal thoughts, Sam?” Castiel asked in a concerned tone.

“No!” Sam exclaimed with a chuckle. “No, It was just a joke. It’s good to see you back.”  
Castiel’s oblivious nature entertained Sam. And at the moment, Sam needed a bit of light-hearted banter. He was starting to sweat slightly across his brow. His body felt empty, devoid of the power that fueled every part of him. And in his mind were images of Ruby, lying prostrate on a motel bed as Sam’s entire body buzzed and pulsed with each beat of her vessel’s heart.

Shaking the images out of his head, he spoke. “So what are we looking at, Cas?”

“The demons are congregated in a logging factory by the river. I did not sense the children, but I could not determine anything that was happening inside the factory warehouse because they have an Enochian chain sigil painted by the graces of Micah’s entire garrison, as well as salt lines at every entrance. No supernatural being can enter it,” He glanced to Seraphiel who gave him an unreadable look. “But that also means that no one can exit.”

Castiel’s tactics, his instinct as a soldier bubbled to the surface of his grace, but he knew that his plan would be immediately shot down by the Winchesters. It was the move he would have made had he been fighting in The Outer Realm, but here on Earth, with emotions clouding his judgment, he even questioned himself.

“Anna must know of the movement of the garrisons,” But when he reached out through the connection he had with Anna’s grace, it felt like he was being ignored; he hit a wall. “But her connection is veiled to me,” He turned to Seraphiel.

Seraphiel shook her head. “I have been unable to feel her connection for weeks.”

Sam wanted to call Ruby. Not just because his need for her blood was beginning to burn painfully in his core, but she had to know something about this high-profile seal. He took a deep breath and looked out at the passing scenery as Dean spotted a gas-station.

Relieved by the interruption to the tense conversation taking place, Sam stepped out of the car and stretched his legs. His entire body felt like it was on pins and needles. It was almost unbearable. He began to wander away from the Impala as Dean pumped the gas.

Seraphiel had also exited the car, simply following the lead of the Winchesters. Standing forlornly by her door, she watched as Sam walked away, his soul virtually desiccated. He was in obvious pain.

Castiel remained in the car, so it was only Seraphiel and Dean standing at the gas station pump. There was an awkward silence as Seraphiel examined the soul of The Righteous Man. It was a glorious mélange of Castiel’s dazzling grace and Dean’s golden, courageous soul. The bond between them was deeper than she could ever imagine. With human emotion infused into their connection, Seraphiel felt that it was deeper than even the bond of their grace. She felt honoured to be in his presence.

Dean, however, was wary of the angel who stood next to him. She was this stranger from Cas’ past and he didn’t trust her. She was staring at him, and he shifted nervously. “So what’s your story with Cas?” Dean said in a tone that came out much more demanding than he’d intended, but he didn’t regret it.

The corners of Seraphiel’s mouth curled into a small smile. “Castiel and I fought together under Uriel for millennia. We walked the Earth in the time of David, and joined in his Psalms of praise. But Castiel was placed in a tactical position and and he left the battlefield for centuries. I was assigned to protect a vessel, and Castiel and I never saw each other again, until last night.” Dean’s face was unreadable.

“You are jealous of me,” Seraphiel observed aloud, smiling even more at the absurdity of the thought.

Dean’s face immediately scrunched in disagreement as he began to deny what Seraphiel said, but she cut him off. “Castiel is my brother, we have a connection through the grace we share from our Father. There is a time when I would have died for every single one of my brothers.” The pump had finished, but Dean stood listening intently. “The pain of their rebellion and betrayal has overwhelmed me. Castiel and I are both refugees now. And I will die if it means saving my brother, but now I have two other brothers I would die for.”

Dean focused intently at Seraphiel’s forlorn gaze. As he replaced the nozzle, he extended his hand to Seraphiel who looked at it inquisitively. “It’s a handshake.” He chuckled.

Taking his hand and giving it a small shake as she felt Sam returning, she pulled Dean towards her and whispered in his ear, “I know how to save Sam.” And she got into the car.

What was Dean supposed to do with that?

***********

As Castiel sat alone in the car, he desperately tried to connect to Anna. He was straining himself to the point of pain, his grace stretched to the furthest reaches of the Heavens, and he felt nothing.

With his grace extended, he began to survey their surroundings. He felt Seraphiel’s weakened bond, and he marveled at her willingness to sacrifice everything for him and the Winchesters. She was exactly how he remembered, and Castiel had to admit that he was relieved to have her by his side once more, even if it might be their last.

Wincing as Castiel’s grace encountered a throbbing ache, he realized that he was feeling the pain in Sam’s soul. Knowing that Sam was virtually addicted to the demon blood, he worried that he might summon Ruby. Righteous anger swelled in Castiel’s grace like the churning of black clouds heavy with rain. He knew that if he saw the demon again, he would smite her instantly.

But the issue of Sam was still unresolved. The taint of Azazel’s blood was impossible to remove, and it was that darkness in him that craved more. He wanted power, but only to save Dean; everything he did was always for Dean. But Sam’s fatal flaw was his inability to understand that certain paths cannot be followed no matter what their end. The demon blood was strengthening Sam, certainly, but the end of this particular line was not saving Dean. It ended with Sam as Lucifer’s only suitable vessel.

The moment he thought of Sam’s potential end, he was also reminded that another of his brothers had chosen Dean as his vessel. Michael’s fury was not to be reckoned with; Castiel recalled the few times he had been honoured to be in Michael’s presence. His grace was the most brilliant, overpowering sensation as it bathed Castiel in its ferocity and yet was the most stunning light as white as the dusting of the winter’s first snow. No human could survive containing such power.

Castiel couldn’t think about that. Each time he did, his grace beat against his vessel’s body, craving the feeling of liberation. To let his wings stretch to catapult him into flight, a blissful moment of complete freedom.

Suddenly, the Winchesters and Seraphiel entered the car, and they drove from the gas station in silence.

************

Seraphiel closed her eyes for a moment as she tried to compose herself. It was becoming difficult to focus on anything, as her grace tumbled lethargically in her vessel. She would attempt to unite with Castiel, but the connection she made was barely noticeable. Suddenly, Seraphiel’s grace churned wildly, and extended farther than she knew was possible at the moment. Turning to Castiel, he had a confused, rigid expression etched on his face.

 _Something is coming_. Castiel’s grace spoke silently to Seraphiel, not wanting to alert the Winchesters until he knew the exact nature of this anomaly. Seraphiel looked like a lost puppy, her vessel’s eyes were wide with what Castiel could only call terror.

It was like an explosion in Castiel’s grace when he finally understood what was happening. From this eruption came the most beautiful, elegant hallelujah of praise.

Even Seraphiel felt the immense pull on her grace, as it burned brighter than it had in a long while. The magnificent song filled her up and her grace ebbed and flowed in perfect harmony, the feeling was unparalleled, and Seraphiel’s fear and concern immediately melted away and was replaced with a rising feeling of hope.

Sam and Dean both turned abruptly at the sound of wings in the back seat. Both expecting to look back and see one or both of the angels missing, they were taken aback when their eyes saw not two but three angels occupying the back-seat.

Anna had returned.

“God-damn, it’s good to see you,” Dean said in a tone that didn’t sound like he was really that happy to see Anna, but the look in his eyes betrayed him; to Castiel, his immense relief at Anna’s return was obvious.

Anna paid no attention to Dean’s statement. She was staring intently at the angel to her right; Seraphiel’s grace cried out in praise and thanks to her Father at the sight of Anna. It was the first real stirring she’d felt since that moment with Dean at the gas station. She couldn’t help but feel like she was in this car, driving to her end. “Anna,” Seraphiel’s voice was desperate.

Putting a hand on Seraphiel’s leg, Anna turned to Castiel, her grace simmered with concern, foreboding, and what Castiel could only identify as real fear.

“It is chaos,” Anna said in a woeful tone, and the other two angels could see the sharp, knife-like pain cut through her grace. “Our brothers are going into hiding, the war in the Outer Realm is all but forgotten, and the demons gain ground everyday.” Anna spoke quickly, without being prompted by question.

Feeling Seraphiel’s grace turning slowly within her, the light it emitted was no more than a candle’s flame. Anna continued, “I have not forgotten about you, but I could not risk allowing our graces to connect while I was in Heaven in case Raphael or Micah were watching me.”

“So why didn’t you just get your ass down here?” Dean asked in a frustrated tone. “Leave Heaven and lie low.”

Castiel watched as Anna’s grace deflated even more as she answered Dean’s question. “Raphael’s allies are monitoring the angels leaving Heaven. A surge of demons in the Outer Realm sent many of the sentinels away, and I was able to slip through the Veil.” Anna explained.

Dean’s hands gripped the Impala’s steering wheel until his knuckles were white. Dean never really believed in God, and still had his suspicions despite….what was he supposed to call his relationship with Cas? But upon hearing Anna’s report of the losing battle it appeared they were fighting, he couldn’t help but feel the most profound abandonment and betrayal. He was used to fighting evil; he was one of the good guys, and he was being hunted.

“So what’s our plan of action?” Dean asked in a hard tone. When Castiel heard it, his grace winced; he could hear himself in Dean’s voice, a piece of Castiel’s grace came through in his tone and connected to Castiel’s grace in one specific location. Somehow Dean’s soul had a piece of Castiel’s fury, the fiery rage that burned brighter than the sun whenever Castiel was on the battlefield. Dean sounded like a soldier.

Anna turned to Castiel as she obviously felt all the emotion that was stirring in Castiel’s grace. Initially she was taken aback by the brilliant display, the bursts of gold and the incandescent glow of Castiel’s love for Dean. Having fallen once, Anna did not pity Castiel’s emotions; she applauded them.

“First I must depart with Seraphiel,” Anna said, as she turned once more to face Seraphiel. “I must take her to the Veil and restore her grace. Castiel will remain with you in case you run into any problems.”

Sam twisted uncomfortably in his seat as he realized that he was concerned for Seraphiel’s safety. “Just be careful.” He said to both angels before they took flight with the rustle of wings.

************

Seraphiel merely latched on to Anna’s Heaven-swelled grace and followed her to that familiar, dark stretch of ice. They were a mere three miles from the North Pole, and yet neither angel showed any sign of cold nor was affected by the gale-force wind.

Seraphiel looked at Anna and knew what she needed to admit to herself and her grace. “This will be the last time I replenish my grace.” It was half question half statement. Seraphiel had resigned herself to that fact.

Looking into Seraphiel’s grace with rapt attention, Anna did not want to say the truth. “Yes,” She all but whispered. “I am so sorry.” Anna added as she extended a flaming tendril of her grace to warm Seraphiel’s.

“There is something I need to do,” Seraphiel said in a serious tone. “With the last of my grace, I want to save Sam Winchester.” With a heart-wrenching stirring in Anna’s grace, her vessel’s face was without expression.

“I believe angels are at our best when we are falling,” Anna said quietly. “We love passionately and have faith in people and things that don’t necessarily deserve it. I do not know what the future holds for Sam, but I have seen your grace burn so brilliantly, and I know that if anyone can save him, it is you.” Anna’s faith in Seraphiel was reassuring as she stepped forward to the crashing fury of the Veil, where Heaven, Earth, and Hell all collided.

Taking a deep breath of the air buzzing with power and unbridled fury into her vessel’s lungs, she extended her grace and immediately felt the overwhelming pull of the Veil’s power. She felt her grace swelling, and expanding in a burst of the most brilliant, iridescent holy fire. She pulled on the Veil as her grace became stronger. When she had reached a state where her grace was fully restored, she did not disconnect from the Veil. She allowed even more power and grace to enter her than ever before, and she could feel it coursing through her vessel’s veins and pressing against her skin.

 _I am sorry._ Seraphiel’s grace whispered to her vessel, Caroline's, shrunken soul. _You will find yourself in the most exquisitely beautiful location you can imagine, where rivers flow with shimmering kaleidoscope water infused with our Father’s merciful grace; where the forests and the emerald trees, glinting with life, stretch to infinity. I cannot save you, but because of you, because of your beautiful sacrifice, I can save Sam Winchester._

In the fury of the moment, Seraphiel heard a whisper.

_Seraphiel._

It was Caroline’s voice, and then it was gone.

When Seraphiel felt Caroline’s tired soul depart her body, a blinding light emitted from her chest and the most exquisite, broken hallelujah sang from Seraphiel’s grace, and ascended, guiding Caroline’s soul to Heaven.

It was painful for Seraphiel to force the grace from the Veil into the void created by the absence of Caroline’s soul, but she forced herself to fill her vessel until it overflowed with fiery explosions of powerful, unbridled grace.

Anna stood to the side and watched as Seraphiel’s grace swelled, ebbing and flowing in equilibrium with the Veil. The burning crashing realms colliding suspended Seraphiel’s grace in stasis as it pulled on its strength.

When Seraphiel felt that she was truly as full of grace as she ever had been, and as she ever would be, she pulled with all the strength in her as she severed her connection with the Veil and stumbled back into Anna’s arms.

Seraphiel’s eyes glowed with a swirling golden mist, and Anna was taken aback by the unrestrained force of Seraphiel’s grace which extended from the angel and overwhelmed Anna’s own Heaven-fueled grace. It was stunning in its terror, and Anna almost averted her vessel’s eyes.

As the Veil’s power settled into Seraphiel, her vessel’s eyes returned to their natural deep green. But as Seraphiel stood there, with the power coursing through her veins, she realized that it wasn’t her vessel anymore. This was her body. Her consciousness would never leave this flesh, even after her grace had left her.

_A human with an angel’s memories._

_A fallen angel._

Anna’s grace tossed playfully with the more controlled power of Seraphiel’s grace; it was unlike any other feeling; because while she was filled with more power than most angels could ever imagine, she was also falling.

 _We can’t stay here._ Anna’s grace spoke wordlessly to Seraphiel.

Nodding, Seraphiel unfurled her wings and Anna felt herself inhale in wonder. Seraphiel’s wings were full, each feather glinting like an individual diamond, and as they stretched to their full extent, radiating incandescent pulses of energy, the power in them was evident.

Seraphiel took flight, pulling Anna with her.

*************

Night had fallen when Anna and Seraphiel returned to the Winchesters and Castiel. They had reached Osceola, but were stationed at a motel ten miles away. Three angels in a demon-filled town was just asking for a fight. Dean noticed that Seraphiel held herself straighter now that she had restored her grace. Her voice was stronger and more melodic, each word almost like its own song.

“Seraphiel,” Castiel said when he saw her. His voice was a sigh as he caressed Seraphiel’s grace vibrating at frequencies that Castiel didn’t understand, but reveled in the power they conveyed. But Castiel noticed something else about Seraphiel: her vessel was empty. The soul of the vessel that contained her grace had left her, and Castiel sent a song of supplication to his Father.

Anna’s grace extended to Castiel’s to calm the uncertainty he had about Seraphiel’s sudden resurgence.

“Where the hell have you two been?” Dean asked pointedly as Sam stepped forward towards Seraphiel, feeling a physical magnetic pull.

Anna shot a look of disapproval at Dean whose face had not relaxed a fraction. “Trips to the Veil are more treacherous than any other, especially when the comings and goings of angels are being watched,” Anna’s voice was stern.

Sam surveyed Seraphiel and he could feel this slight warmth radiating from her. Her skin glowed with life, as he was approaching her. Her copper hair shined brighter than seemed possible, and Sam stopped in front of her, unsure what to say, or whether or not she felt that very real force pulling Sam’s core towards the angel.

Seraphiel looked away from Sam with a smile and brushed her gloriously layered wings against Castiel’s in greeting. “Hello, Castiel.” It hardly seemed possible, but when Castiel’s vessel’s face smiled, it moved Seraphiel’s grace in a way that made her see his real form, his real smile, and it almost brought tears to her eyes.

_My grace is diminishing, Castiel. I am falling. But I have the power of the Veil, and Caroline’s soul departed this corporeal form. I can save Sam Winchester, and allow him to help us in the battle tomorrow without giving in to that all-consuming need in his vacuous soul. His soul is drawn towards me, even now. Give me time alone with him. Distract Dean._


	4. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the battle draws nearer, the angels have a strategy. But can Dean trust Sam to anyone but himself? And can Sam allow another to sacrifice everything for him?

Dean was still thinking about what Seraphiel had said to him at the gas station.

    _I know how to save Sam._

She’d said nothing more, and Dean was afraid to hear an elaboration. Sam was hated by so many angels, safe from their wrath only because of his importance to Dean and Castiel. Naturally, Dean was still wary about this angel that seemed to want to save his brother rather than smite him. 

    _It should have been enough,_ Dean remarked to himself, _that Cas trusted her so completely._ When they were together, Dean could see Castiel relax, and in his own soul he felt a warming sense of comfort and safety; Dean still wasn’t convinced.

    So, as he always did, Dean sat himself at the small table in the motel room and began disassembling his guns. None of the angels moved and Sam remained sitting on one of the beds in silence. Dean felt like he was going to explode.

    “What the fuck is going on here?” He demanded in a booming voice, slamming down the piece of the gun in his hand. 

    Castiel stiffened. He knew Dean was addressing the deafening silence engulfing the room as obviously the three angels present knew something that neither of the Winchesters did. 

    “I think we should have separate rooms,” Castiel said in an even tone. Dean shot him a scathing look. “It will give us more space and time to prepare.” He reasoned. 

    Still scowling at Cas, Dean’svoice grew harder; he hated being stern with his angel, but he needed some fucking answers. “I wasn’t talking about the room situation, Cas.” He rolled his eyes towards the angel and decided to just lay it all out. Go in guns blazing. “I was talking about what all you angels know about and aren’t telling us.” 

    Sam’s face contorted in confusion, furrowing his brow and narrowing his eyes. He honestly had no idea what was going on. Something the angels knew? Something they were keeping from his brother and himself? “Dean?” Sam said his brother’s name trying to sound calm. “What are you talking about?”

    Dean looked at his brother and almost regretted bringing this up. It was all to save Sam, and maybe he should have a little faith in these Warriors of God, but despite it all, he couldn’t trust Sam’s life to anyone but himself. 

    When Seraphiel took a deep breath, even Dean could feel the movement of the air in the motel room, electrified with the power radiating from her. She looked to Sam and contemplated what to say. “There is little time for discussion,” Seraphiel said with a calm that concealed her mounting anxiety at the task ahead. “I have already told you what I am going to do, Dean.” Dean did not look satisfied at Seraphiel’s words. She could tell that he wanted details, but she knew that he would not want to hear them; especially since she knew that if he did hear them, he would never let her do what she needed to.

    Standing from where he was sitting on the bed, Sam approached the angels. Dean watched him as he approached Seraphiel, making eye contact with Castiel and Anna as he did so. “What do you have to do?” He asked pointedly. He felt her viridian irises as though they were penetrating his body and examining what lay inside.

    “I want to save you, Sam.” Seraphiel said with a neutral expression on her face. Sam felt a stronger pull towards the angel in front of him, like the moon driving the tides in and out. Her influence, or power, or whatever magnetic pull was affecting Sam, ebbed and flowed in a way that Sam wished made him feel more at ease. 

    _You want to save me?_ Sam thought to himself. Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why on earth would this be something that the angels were tossing about furtively behind his and Dean’s backs?

    “Save me?” Sam inquired.

    “As I said, Sam, not all paths can be followed,” Seraphiel stepped forward and placed a hand on Sam’s chest. “I want to give you a new one.” Sam could feel a tingling where Seraphiel’s hand met his chest, like an electric charge that shot through his body. She removed her hand and turned to Dean.

    “Castiel is right. We should have separate rooms,” Seraphiel said. Dean scowled as he felt his role being usurped by this new angel. But when Dean looked at Cas and saw the pleading, yet reassuring look in his angel’s eyes, he relented.

    “Fine,” Dean said. “You go get another room, Sammy.” Sitting down once again, Dean returned to cleaning his guns as Sam looked forlornly at the three angels, and turned to return to the motel office. 

    Seraphiel’s hand caught Sam’s shoulder, “I will come with you,” She said.

    Anna looked at Castiel and Seraphiel who nodded to an unheard question; she looked to the Winchesters. “I will go into Osceola and ascertain the situation,” Anna said. “I have been seen in Heaven, they will be less likely to suspect me of anything unusual.” And with the whoosh of flapping wings, Anna departed, leaving two angels and the Winchesters alone in the motel room.

    As Anna was en route to the town, she thought of what Seraphiel was going to do. And she wondered if Seraphiel truly believed her ignorant enough to not understand her end game; or did she think Anna incapable of allowing her to do what she had to when the consequences were so grave? For whatever reason, when Anna reached the factory warehouse where the demons were gathered, and she felt the pulsing, repellant force of the Enochian chain sigil, she understood Seraphiel’s plan immediately. 

 

*************

 

    Sam and Seraphiel exitted the motel room in silence, leaving Dean and Castiel alone; Dean still cleaning his guns and Castiel standing behind him with a lost expression on his face. 

    Seraphiel did not speak as she walked next to Sam, feeling him swaying her direction as they walked. She could tell he noticed the pull towards her. She doubted he had established what it meant.

    “So,” Sam began, unable to make eye contact with Seraphiel. Every time he did, he would catch a glimpse of a golden smoke swirling in her eyes and it intensified the throbbing ache inside him, as he literally salivated for the power she contained.

    “I am going to save you, Sam.” Seraphiel said simply as they approached the door to the motel office. Sam pulled the door and gestured for Seraphiel to enter first. 

    As Sam stepped up to the reception desk, his head was spinning with Seraphiel’s words. He mindlessly asked for another double room.

    “We only have singles available.” The man behind the counter said in a bored tone. Sam stiffened, but Seraphiel seemed like she hadn’t heard what the man said. She was looking out the window into the darkness, as if she were seeing something Sam could not. 

    “That’s fine,” Sam found himself saying with a twist of nervousness in his stomach. He took the key and exited the office with the angel on his heels.

    “The room’s this way,” He said nervously, and Seraphiel unexpectedly placed her hand on his shoulder. He felt as though it were physically bonded to his skin. 

    Seraphiel’s heightened grace could sense Sam’s uncertainty. After placing her hand on his shoulder, and feeling the equivalent of a rip current pull her grace towards him, she wished she could tell him her plan in full. But he would try to stop her; she knew he would. And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that could stay Seraphiel’s course now.

    “Soon, Sam.” She said as she walked behind him. “Soon you’ll understand.” Sam’s expression was unreadable as he looked at Seraphiel, finally meeting her eyes as he put the key into the room’s doorknob. He was acutely aware of her proximity, and how his arm brushed against hers in a furtive, strangely intimate moment. Pushing the door open, Sam hit the light switch and shut out the inky darkness of the night. 

 

**************

 

    When Castiel found himself alone in the motel room with Dean, he didn’t quite know what was the proper approach to initiate conversation with the man sitting at the table cleaning his guns in silence. He was meant to distract Dean for Seraphiel, but he knew that nothing with Dean was ever that simple.

    “Come on, Cas.” Dean said in a tired voice, motioning for Castiel to sit in the chair beside him withoutlooking up from the disassembled gun before him. 

    Dean’s shoulders were hunched over, and the look on his face made Castiel’s grace reach out and caress his soul. “What are we doing, Cas?” Dean’s voice was weary, and his hands were lying idly with bits of his gun still between his fingers.

    Unsure of how to respond, Castiel remembered that humans liked touch, so he placed a hand on Dean’s forearm. Again, Castiel felt the movement of his grace inside Dean’s soul, but it was like a stirring in a silent wintry night. 

    “Seraphiel said she can save Sam?” Dean asked, looking at Cas, who could obviously tell that this was the only thing that was truly keeping Dean together. Dean’s soul was so much more drained than he ever let on. The images of his time with Alistair were always bubbling to the surface, and every moment of every day, Castiel watched as he repressed that pain. Because he had to save his brother.

    “Yes,” Castiel said, nodding a bit unwillingly. “Seraphiel is able to save Sam from his addiction to the demon blood.” He looked into Dean’s eyes, and for a moment he was transported to his most beloved corner of Heaven: a small glade in his Father’s infinite forests. Evergreens stretching as far as Castiel’s grace could reach. It was that precise colour that had settled into Dean’s irises as Castiel mended his soul. 

    “So why didn’t you just say it?” Dean asked, frustrated at Cas’ strange reasoning. Angels were far too secretive for his taste. And why keep something from Dean that would relieve him?

    The look on Cas’ face spoke volumes to Dean. It was amazing, really. The set of his mouth and jaw, the softening in his eyes, it all sang to Dean in a place he couldn’t quite specify. But it was also more than slightly worrisome. 

    “Nothing is without its price, Dean,” Castiel began in the calm, quiet voice that Dean had come to love and depend on more than anything else in this world. “Seraphiel will use her grace to cleanse the demon blood from Sam’s soul, leaving behind an unknown amount of her power within him.” Castiel stopped for a moment as his grace turned and reached out for Seraphiel’s, realizing that the period of time he would be able to do this was limited. “Sam will have similar power as he did from demon blood, but it will be purer.” Castiel stopped and looked at Dean whose eyes contained more emotion than Castiel could even begin to comprehend. 

    “You gotta help me out, Cas. I’m not seeing it.” Dean said.

    Castiel made it clearer. “When Seraphiel replenished her grace at the Veil, it was the last time she will ever do so. Her vessel’s soul has left her body, and her grace, though inflated by the Veil, diminishes with each moment. She is falling, and after tomorrow night, if she survives, she will no longer be an angel.” A stabbing pain radiated through Castiel as he said the words, and he lowered his head for a moment as a wave of an unfamiliar feeling spilled out of his grace into his vessel to create what he could only call sadness. Castiel reasoned that this was that soul-wrenching emotion he had observed within Dean’s grace-healed soul. He was losing a brother; Seraphiel’s grace was soon to depart the Host. 

    Dean’s eyes were wide as he felt an attack of guilt at how wary he had been of Seraphiel. She wanted to save Sam, no matter what the cost; Dean found they had more in common than he thought.

    “What do you mean: If she survives?” Dean asked the obvious question which Castiel had hoped he wouldn’t. As Castiel sat in silence, contemplating whether to tell Dean or not, he was once again interrupted, “Goddammit, Cas,” Dean was even more angry when he saw Castiel wince at his Father’s name taken in vain. “I need you to be honest with me,” Dean’s voice was more plaintive than angry now. “Why don’t you trust me?”

    Castiel’s grace twisted and turned into an intricate knot within him. He was ashamed of himself; Dean was his charge, and, yes, Dean was his to care for and protect. But Dean was The Righteous Man, and to prevent him from making his own decisions or fulfilling his own destiny was bordering on blasphemous. Dean had always trusted Castiel, through everything. Castiel could even remember the precise moment Dean’s soul relented and gave in to Castiel’s reaching grace which gripped him tight and raised him from Perdition.

    “I do trust you,” Castiel said to the table. Locking eyes with Dean, he explained. “When I examined the factory the ritual will be performed in, I found it to be guarded by an Enochian chain sigil.” Dean’s face was blank, so Castiel continued. “This sigil, when painted with the graces of my brothers, is impregnable by any archangel, angel or demon. It is said that the sigil is painted around the throne-room of my Father. Inside the sigil is where even angels fear to tread. But there is one way to breach it: with the blood and grace of a falling angel.”

    Dean’s face shifted into an expression of understanding. “An angel in the act of falling,” Dean confirmed and Castiel nodded once, moving his hand up Dean’s arm slowly, as he remembered that his objective was to distract Dean. “She doesn’t have to die to break the sigil though?” Dean asked.

    Castiel was stroking Dean’s forearm as he stared into Dean’s eyes. “No. Seraphiel has inflated her grace to an extent that though she is falling, she will be able to survive the sacrifice to break the sigil; it will certainly deplete her, but she burns with great power now and she will be able to use the remainder of it in our fight to save the seal.” Dean’s skin was soft under Castiel’s fingers, and his grace moved in an unfamiliar way as he realized that he’d been thinking about the extremity as his hand. Not Jimmy’s hand, but his own.

    With one hand, Castiel placed his palm lightly on Dean’s shoulder, feeling the brand of his grace through the hunter’s shirt pulse with longing; with his other hand he took Dean’s and interlaced their fingers. “I cannot lie,” Castiel said in almost a whisper, placing his lips on their intertwined hands. “Saving Sam could be the difference between whether Seraphiel survives the fight or dies for this seal, and she is well aware of this.” Castiel began placing kisses along Dean’s forearm, moving towards his shoulder and neck. “Seraphiel’s grace has always been particularly sacrificing, and she is the brother I was most honoured to fight beside. She helped me rescue you from the Pit after we had been separated for centuries. She and Anna are the only brothers I have left that I can trust without question.”

    Castiel’s lips had reached Dean’s neck, which erupted with goosebumps as Cas’ hot breath caressed him between kisses. Leaning his head down and finding Cas’ lips with his own, Dean felt himself relax into his angel’s arms, that characteristic warmth spreading from Dean’s core and radiating to every point in his body. He knew he couldn’t save Sam on his own, no matter how fucking frustrated he was at the prospect. If Cas trusted Seraphiel, then Dean had no choice but to trust her.

    Wrapping an arm around Dean, and pulling him into a standing position, Cas increased the ferocity of their kiss, and wrapped his arms tightly around Dean’s body as they moved slowly towards the bed.

    “I love you,” Dean said in a breathy voice as he felt his libido rising, and he did. If there was one thing in the world Dean knew, it was that he loved Castiel.

    Pushing Dean down onto the bed, Cas leaned over his body and placed a hand on his cheek and stared directly into his eyes, “I have never known these human emotions, and I am thankful that my first experience of them is loving you. Your soul has captivated my grace, and that, to me, is love.”

    It wasn’t traditional, but Dean loved the way Cas said that. He turned his face into Cas’ palm and kissed it tenderly as he extended his arms and pulled Castiel on top of him. “Prove it.” Dean said with a smile, and as Cas ripped open his shirt and rubbed his hands over Dean’s bare chest. Dean, unexpectedly, sent a thank you to Seraphiel. 

    When Castiel felt Dean’s gratitude rise from his soul like smoke rising from the embers of a dying fire, he also felt an explosion of a magnitude that made even his grace quake in awe. It shook the building, but Dean didn’t seem to notice. Not until the lights began to flicker. “It’s begun.” Cas said.

    Trying to contain his mounting anxiety, Dean leaned over and turned off the flickering lamp next to the bed and sighed, putting his hands on Cas’ chest. “I trust you,” He said as he began to undo Cas’ tie. 

 

*************

    “No,” Sam jerked out the word to Seraphiel when she explained her plan to transfer power to him to cleanse his soul. “You’re falling. I can’t take your grace.” His voice was resolute and stern.

    Taking a deep breath and standing up straighter, Seraphiel unfurled her wings blazing with grace to tower over herself and Sam. She found if she tugged ever so slightly on the power from the Veil, she was able to make her wings materialize. Sam’s eyes grew wide as he took in the burning form of the incarnation of Seraphiel’s grace. “I am not asking for permission, Sam.” Seraphiel said in an unyielding tone that carried the melody of the most beautiful song Sam had ever heard. 

    “Please,” Sam pleaded, the look in his eyes shearing painfully at Seraphiel’s grace. He stepped forward and placed his hand on the angel’s cheek. She was silent but she moved her wing and wrapped it around Sam’s large frame. “I’m sick of people sacrificing for me.” 

    Seraphiel could see the pain. Pure, white-hot, agonizing pain inside Sam that threatened to consume his entire self. Having lost Dean and trying to save him had caused irrevocable damage. 

“I am falling,” Seraphiel confirmed, stroking Sam’s back with her wing. His face had relaxed but his eyes were still pleading; he began to stroke Seraphiel’s hair and she continued speaking. “But I do not fear it. In all my time on Earth amongst you, my Father’s most treasured creation, I have come to understand Falling.” She took her hand and replicated Sam’s gesture by placing it on his cheek.

“Angels were created for obedience, we are our Father’s messengers and warriors, there is no room for disobedience. And it is not until we descend to Earth and see the tragic beauty of the human condition that we can even understand from where the impetus to disobey springs. Just as Eve ate of the Tree of Knowledge, exercising her free will, so did she also invite evil into the world. Angels on Earth see humans, teeming with emotions and their unbridled free will, and we understand that humans fell from grace by misusing their free will. Angels fall for having it at all.”

Unexpectedly, Sam felt tears stinging his eyes. He felt his entire self ache for Seraphiel and the power he could feel stretching out, pulsing until it reached his center. To Sam’s surprise, he saw Seraphiel lean towards him until her lips reached his. Taken aback by the feeling, the burst of gold and crimson flames in his mind, he put his hand on the back of Seraphiel’s head, not wanting the moment to ever end.

Pulling away finally, after experiencing something that Seraphiel was incapable of even explaining, she pushed a stray lock of Sam’s hair behind his ear. “I choose to do this, Sam. Trust me.”

Sam’s hearing dulled after he heard Seraphiel’s final words to him; he felt the room swell and the air electrify. In front of him, Seraphiel was taking deep breaths with her eyes closed. Unbeknownst to Sam, Seraphiel was sending a final prayer to her Father. Her grace echoing in the ancient Enochian tongue of her brothers she thanked her Father for every moment that she had been gifted and the honour of fighting for His kingdom. But most of all, she thanked Him for the certainty she felt about saving Sam Winchester. She would fall for this, but she drew comfort from the certainty she felt about fulfilling her Father’s will.

Opening her eyes abruptly, Sam was captivated by the shimmering gold eclipsing those lovely green irises. It swirled and crashed like an infinite whirlpool of unparalleled power. Sam could clearly see her wings now, and it almost brought him to tears. They rose from her back and extended out, brushing the ceiling and walls of the room. Each individual feather was glowing and light glinted off them, scattering like diamonds. They were magnificently terrible, and Sam understood righteous fear.

Seraphiel stepped forward; Sam physically felt her move closer to him as the air buzzed with raw power. As Seraphiel placed her right palm over Sam’s forehead, she slowly inched her left hand closer to the spot just underneath his breast-bone. Getting closer, she felt the power arching from her hand to his dry, aching soul.

When she finally closed the gap and placed her hand on Sam’s chest, he cried out in a mixture of pain and release. The power from the Veil exploded inside Seraphiel’s grace as it raced to fill the void in Sam’s soul and coursed through his entire body to cleanse him of the taint. A brilliant light emitted from where her hand made contact with his chest, and she watched it intently. As Seraphiel felt Sam becoming clean, and becoming whole, she could see her grace lending an otherworldly glow to his skin. His eyes were still closed, and his face was twisted in pain.

It felt like Sam was burning in every inch of his body. Like his blood had been removed and replaced with acid, but as pulses emitted from Seraphiel’s hand on his chest, electrifying his entire body, the agonizing pain subsided for a moment and he felt at peace. The pulses of light increased in frequency and Sam found the pain diminishing. He opened his eyes and looked at the angel in front of him; her wings were still visible. Her dazzling copper hair was blowing in the wind that had started in the motel room. When Sam looked to her eyes, those green and gold orbs were staring straight into his.

Digging even deeper into her power, Seraphiel continued their connection until she felt the resistance of Sam’s soul overflowing with pure, unadulterated holy fire. Almost unwillingly, she removed her hand from Sam’s chest and stumbled backward, hitting the back of her legs on the bed. When Sam’s hand reached out and grabbed her arm, it was as though she were hearing the most beautiful hallelujah of praise. The softness of Sam, his new-found power, and the purity of its combination was simply bliss for Seraphiel’s grace.

Any angel would know that Sam contained power derived from her, and she hoped they would because as she surveyed Sam with her heightened grace, she looked beyond his corporeal form and saw his soul in all its intricate splendor, whole and clean once more.

Sam never thought he would feel like this again. In fact, he could barely remember the last time he felt so powerful and yet so….sure of himself. It was as if Seraphiel’s grace had instilled in Sam the understanding that he was not evil, he was not a bad person, and, despite all his faults, he had been given a second chance. It was better than the demon blood, more controlled, and he could still feel it moving throughout his body in an endless cycle.

After catching Seraphiel as she stumbled backward, Sam was completely at a loss of what to say. In fact, he was hardly able to form words as his mind was so preoccupied with the feeling of Seraphiel’s grace within him. Leaning his head down, he placed an even more desperate, yet tender, kiss on her lips. She allowed his weight to lower her onto the bed, and she smiled into the kiss.

Pressing his forehead to hers, he put both of his hands on either side of her face, “Thank you.” He whispered even though the words hardly seemed appropriate to encompass the sentiment. Seraphiel felt his gratitude in the centre of her grace, but she also felt a different stirring. Something completely alien to her.

Sam was now straddling her on the bed, his face still glued to hers. Understanding that this was entirely her decision, she wrapped her arms around Sam’s body, and folded her wings over them both, hiding inside the warmth and safety. Sam hesitantly reached for the shirt she was wearing, and she nudged his hands in encouragement. Once it was pulled over her head and thrown onto the floor, Sam begrudgingly pulled from her embrace for a moment and removed his shirt in one swift movement.

Seraphiel felt her hands yearning to touch the bare skin. Placing her palms flat on his chest, she let them glide over and explore the ripples of muscle and the flesh burning with the grace she’d given him. She ran her finger over the anti-possession tattoo on Sam’s chest, as he reached down to start unbuttoning his pants.

Her breath hitched as Sam removed both of their pants, and their naked bodies were pressed hotly against each other. Sam’s breath was mingling with the wispy hair around her ears and she felt a shiver of carnal pleasure shoot down her spine.

He kissed her again, for longer this time, and Seraphiel marveled at the feeling. Not simply physical, no, more than that. The feeling Seraphiel contained transcended anything able to be defined. There were no words in English or Enochian to describe the feeling of Sam against her body, her grace within both of them.

“I love you.” Sam said in the most timid and quiet whisper. Seraphiel’s grace shone through her smile. Love was a word she hadn’t understood before, but now the brute force of it hit Seraphiel like a brick wall. It wasn’t want. It wasn’t desire. It was need. Pure carnal need.

“I am yours,” Seraphiel said. “You have taken my grace, now take my body.”


End file.
